


Orange Gerbera Daisies

by Chimney_on_the_roof



Series: His Silver Lining [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Developing Friendships, Flowers, Fluff, I suppose, M/M, Pre-Slash, Trans Alexander Hamilton, Trans Male Character, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:07:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25810318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chimney_on_the_roof/pseuds/Chimney_on_the_roof
Summary: “What’s your favourite colour?” Hercules was wearing a very serious expression, but his eyes hinted at the underlying light tone. Alex gave a chuckle and he let his eyes wander to the giant window on his right.“Uhhh…” he said with all his dignity. He looked at the flower shop across the street. He spotted some orange flowers he liked and he made a mental note to check out their name. “Orange, I think?”A.k.a. Alex's friends are nice and his friendship with John grows
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton & Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette, Alexander Hamilton & Hercules Mulligan, Alexander Hamilton & John Laurens, Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens
Series: His Silver Lining [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1872574
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	Orange Gerbera Daisies

**Author's Note:**

> Look, a second part! :)
> 
> I recommend reading part 1 first but hey, I won't sue you if you don't, but this fic won't make much sense otherwise ;)

“Does he know you’re trans?” Lafayette gave Alex a stern look. He squirmed a bit under his gaze.

“I… think so? I mean, he called me dude, and he probably saw my binder on the bed, although he could’ve easily mistaken it for something else… What I’m saying is, I wasn’t wearing my binder and he still called me dude. But uh, I haven’t explicitly told him I was trans. Besides, why does it matter? The fact that I’m a guy and he knows is all that matters, right?” He felt his cheeks heat up. He was with Lafayette and Hercules in the coffee shop, where they always met up on Friday afternoons. He had told his friends about his bonding with John a few days ago, but now he wished he hadn’t.

Hercules seemed satisfied with this answer, but Lafayette wouldn’t quite let it go. He leaned back in his chair and said, “Well, if he says anything… wrong, inacceptable, violating… You let us know, okay?” Alex was flattered by the care, but he doubted he would. Nevertheless, he nodded.

Alex had met Lafayette and Hercules not long ago. It was his second year in college and at the start of the year he had to do a group project with three others, one of whom was Aaron, who introduced him to Lafayette and Hercules upon finding out that he had made no friends yet. Alex had wondered why Aaron so necessarily had to introduce him to others instead of befriending him himself, seeing as Aaron didn’t seem to have many friends either. Not that Alex cared that much, because later on it became apparent that the two couldn’t get along.

Hercules and Lafayette were sophomores too, and roommates. Alex had felt a bit like an outsider, because the two friends had known each other for a year already and were very close, but it didn’t escape Alex’s attention that they tried to make him feel included, which he appreciated. He didn’t know why they tried, though. They were too friendly, and Alex knew it would only be a matter of time before they would realise that he wasn’t worth their time. That’s how it always went, and he didn’t like thinking about all the ‘friends’ he’d had in the past that were out of the picture within months, sometimes weeks. Still, he always hoped that this time things would be better, so he didn’t push Lafayette and Hercules away, although he didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve like he would have not long ago.

His thoughts were interrupted by the buzzes of a phone. Lafayette picked his phone up and looked at the screen for a few seconds. “What is it?” Hercules asked. His friend ignored him and started typing feverishly and Hercules, who sat next to him, tried to see what was so important, but Lafayette turned away with a smirk, not taking his eyes off the screen. Hercules rolled his eyes at Alex.

“So, Alex,” Hercules started. Alex felt his heartbeat speed up, even though he knew he had nothing to fear. Hercules was his friend.

“What’s your favourite colour?” Hercules was wearing a very serious expression, but his eyes hinted at the underlying light tone. Alex gave a chuckle and he let his eyes wander to the giant window on his right.

“Uhhh…” he said with all his dignity. He looked at the flower shop across the street. He spotted some orange flowers he liked and he made a mental note to check out their name. “Orange, I think?” He looked back at his friend in front of him, as if to look for approval.

Hercules made a face and Alex raised his eyebrows. “What?” he asked, a little uncertainly. Without looking up from his phone, Lafayette chimed in, “He wants to know your favourite colour so he can make clothes for you, or whatever.” He finally looked up. “You can’t wear orange though, because it clashes with your red hair.”

“Oh.” Alex shrugged. “How about purple?”

Lafayette snapped his fingers and pointed at him. “Yes! That’s excellent.” He turned to Hercules, who nodded approvingly. “Right?”

“Yes.” Hercules shot Alex a quick smile, as if to say that they would continue this conversation later, and he turned to face Lafayette. “Now share with the class, who were you texting?”

Alex didn’t know the name Lafayette said, but Hercules obviously did because he groaned. “Again?”

“Hey!” Lafayette defended himself. “She’s inviting us to a sort of party. Not a big one like last time, but, what’s the word, small-scale? It’s just friends and it’s going to be nice,” he added with a triumphant smile as though he was the one to organise it.

Hercules raised an eyebrow, something out of the trio only he was able to pull off, and sceptically said, “So she considers me a friend all of a sudden?” Lafayette lightly punched his arm.

“Of course she does! She’ll like you too, Alex!” he said, suddenly looking at Alex. He wondered if this was an invitation to the party, or just a fact that he was supposed to give some sort of reaction to, so he went with “Sure.”

Lafayette beamed and unlocked his phone again. “It’s tomorrow night, from nine to about twelve o’clock at her house,” he half read out loud. “I’ll ask if I can use the car and then drive you two there.” Before Alex had a chance to be surprised by the fact that Lafayette assumed he was coming too, Hercules objected, “Uh, aren’t you going to drink?”

It was quiet for a moment before Lafayette spoke up. “Good point.”

“Wait,” Alex said, hoping he was drawing the correct conclusions. “Didn’t you just say this is a party for her friends? I don’t even know her.” He had already forgotten her name.

Lafayette waved his concerns away. “Don’t worry, she’s heard of you. I think she’d love to meet you. I’ll ask her if we can bring you, but I’m sure she won’t mind,” he concluded with a warm smile.

Alex swallowed and nodded. “Okay,” he said hesitantly.

In an impulse, Alex bought the orange flowers he had spotted from inside the coffee shop. He’d watched Lafayette and Hercules walk away to where they lived – Alex knew they didn’t live far from here, about as far as he did but in the opposite direction – and crossed the street to visit the flower shop. The flowers were orange gerbera daisies. There was a small bouquet of them in a bucket surrounded by buckets with the same flowers but in different colours, which he hadn’t even noticed before. He vaguely wondered what John’s favourite colour was.

He bought five gerbera daisies, four orange ones and one in pink, just for the randomness. When he returned home, he considered if he should put the flowers in his own room, or in the shared living room. He decided on the latter and filled a vase with water, unwrapped the flowers from their newsprint paper packaging, put them in the vase, and put the vase with flowers on the coffee table.

As he went to throw the wrapping paper in the trash can in the kitchen, he almost walked into his housemate who was just exiting the kitchen. Alex looked at him with wide eyes, apologies on the tip of his tongue, but unable to say a word. John looked just as surprised.

“Sorry,” Alex managed to say, and he wanted to walk past him into the kitchen, when something in John’s expression made him stop. John wasn’t looking at him, but over his head – Alex didn’t like how short he was compared to John and, well, almost everyone else – at the small living room. Alex slowly turned around to follow his gaze.

“Is there something wrong with the flowers?” he asked with a pinched voice.

John cleared his throat and gave Alex a distracted smile. “No, not at all, I like them.” With that, he retreated to his room.

Alex stayed behind, confused. He threw the paper away and went to sit on the worn leather couch in front of the flowers on the coffee table. He wondered why John had reacted the way he did. He looked around the room and noticed sadly that the flowers were the most colourful things in the room. He rarely went to the living room, preferring to stay in his room and only using the kitchen when he needed to. The living room was where the house owner slept some days, and he had made the mistake of walking in when the man was getting ready for bed after a long night before. Not that he was punished like he expected, but Alex felt extremely awkward and guilty afterwards. But to get to the kitchen, he needed to walk through the living room, so that’s why he had put the flowers there.

After doing some homework in his own room, interrupted several times by texts from Lafayette and Hercules about the party the next day, he went to the kitchen to get something to drink. To his surprise he found John in the living room. He stood still in the doorway and John looked up from the book he was reading, and gave him a relaxed smile before going back to reading. Alex hesitantly continued his walk to the kitchen, watching John who didn’t seem to notice. Once in the kitchen he let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“Alex?”

Alex jumped and some of his apple juice spilled over his hand. He quickly turned around, his heart beating too fast. John seemed startled too, and was quick to apologise. Alex set his glass on the counter and began cleaning the floor where some of the juice had landed.

“It’s just, um. If you want to keep the flowers alive longer, the stems need to be cut diagonally.”

Alex looked up from his kneeled position. John was leaning awkwardly against the counter with his book in one hand, a finger as a bookmark between the pages.

“Oh, okay.”

John apparently took that as a cue to continue. “And the water needs to be refreshed every day, and when the water is being changed, the vase needs to be washed. With soap.” Alex got up to rinse the cleaning cloth, only half listening.

“Also, putting, like, soda or sugar in the water makes the flowers last longer.”

Alex admired his knowledge of keeping flowers. Only one foster home he’d stayed in had flowers in a vase sometimes, and he hadn’t been allowed to so much as look at the flowers that usually died within two days. He watched the water drip down the drain until John had fallen silent, and he turned around to his housemate. “How do you know all that?”

John blushed and looked away. “My mother loved flowers, and plants in general. She taught me all about tending to them and I continued taking care of the plants after she passed away.”

Alex felt his heart drop. John continued, “When I moved out to go to college, I took as many plants with me as I could, because I’m the only one who takes care of them. It-” Alex saw John struggle to meet his eyes. “It’s been a while since someone put flowers on the table.”

The cleaning cloth was dripping water onto the floor, but Alex didn’t care. It was only water. He offered John a sympathetic smile and suppressed the memories of his own mother. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“No, no, don’t be sorry!” John said quickly. “It’s nice. We didn’t have these flowers in our garden, but I’ve seen them plenty of times in flower shops.”

“Do you want to take care of these flowers?” Alex asked a little awkwardly, “I don’t know how, and you seem to like it, so…”

John smiled. “Of course!” He walked out of the kitchen, and Alex followed him after putting the cleaning cloth away and picking up his glass of apple juice. They sat down next to each other on the couch, looking at the gerbera daisies.

“I have to ask, though…” John began. Alex looked at him, expecting a question about his past, or why he had zero experience with flowers. “Why one pink flower?”

That was not a question he was expecting, and he chuckled a little. “I don’t know. I guess… No, I don’t know. I liked it, for some reason.” He shrugged, and noticed John grinning at him.

“Do you know the meanings of flower colours?” John asked, leaning back into the leather cushions. Alex followed suit.

“No,” he said truthfully. Why would he? “I suppose you do?”

John chuckled and nodded. “Orange is for excitement, joy, happiness… Enthusiasm. And pink represents gentleness, grace, and most importantly, love.” He looked at the five flowers tenderly. Alex wondered if there was a colour for friendship, and for the feeling of the calm after a storm, like John had made him feel a few days ago after listening and dancing to music together. He resolved to look it up soon.

He suddenly realised why he had chosen for a pink flower to go with the orange ones. The choice had been entirely subconscious, but now a forgotten memory resurfaced.

“When I was sixteen,” he began, immediately getting John’s attention. “There was a little girl…” A foster sister who was four years younger than him.

“She had a pink and orange dress. It was her favourite, but one day there was a tear in the dress.” She had been playing in a park with a friend, and her dress got stuck in the thorns of a blackberry bush, tearing the fabric.

“She was in tears and asked me to sew her dress, but I only had white thread and she didn’t want her dress being ruined by a different colour.” She was terrified their foster father would find out.

“So I went to the store to get her pink and orange thread and bought it with the little money I had. That night, I stayed up late to sew it together as neatly as I could.” He had to do it at night to make sure nobody would find out. The nights were usually reserved for writing, because for some reason foster parents didn’t like that he wrote. _Keep your thoughts to yourself, lady. You don’t have to scream from the rooftops how you feel_ , he was told _._ Looking back, he understood that they didn’t want any evidence against them if they would be arrested or something, but that didn’t justify it.

“The girl was over the moon when she got her dress back. I gave her the spools of thread and taught her how to sew, so she could do it herself the next time.” But she hadn’t been careful hiding her needle and was sent away, for overstated reasons of course, he believed under the pretext of having attacked their foster father with that needle. He never heard from her again.

“That’s nice of you,” John spoke up. Alex smiled, hoping the sadness behind it didn’t shine through. They stared at the flowers in silence, until John suddenly jumped up. “I have to keep my word! I’ll make sure the flowers stay alive for as long as possible. By the way, I was wondering, what kind of flowers are these?”

“They’re gerbera daisies,” Alex told him. “I saw them from across the street and they caught my eye, so I just had to buy them.”

“Of course,” John said, and Alex wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic or not. John grabbed the vase and said, “Come, I’ll show you how it works.”

Together, they took care of the flowers and they smiled at each other with satisfaction once they put the vase back on the coffee table.

“It looks kind of sad in this setting,” John commented. It was true, like Alex had noticed before, that it was the only cheerful thing in the monotonous living room.

Alex objected, “It looks like a beacon of hope. Everything else looks sad compared to these enthusiastic, gentle, joyful flowers.”

John beamed at him, his expression betraying his resurfaced love for flowers. “True.”

**Author's Note:**

> I looove redhead Alex  
> If you don't know what (orange) gerbera daisies are, look them up, they're pretty :)
> 
> There will be a third part of course, because I didn't write about that upcoming party for nothing ;)  
> Please let me know what you think <3


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